


To Compromise

by HaganeNoMorals



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Gen, Parental Roy Mustang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-15 08:08:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4599240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaganeNoMorals/pseuds/HaganeNoMorals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy Mustang is Trisha Elric's cousin and only surviving blood relative. Essentially by default, he's also godfather to her children. In the wake of her passing, he can either take her sons under his wing or leave them to the state. Her wild, wonderful, damaged, infuriating, obnoxious, ingenious sons. It's only temporary. They'll make it work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Kids, sir? You’re adopting kids?”

That certainly piqued everyone’s attention, and suddenly Hawkeye wasn’t the only one in the room staring at him in befuddlement. Evidently, they were far more amused than Roy was. “I’m not _adopting_ anyone. The government is practically dumping them into my lap.”

Havoc smirked, which was strange, because Roy couldn’t seem to recall having said anything particularly funny. “What? How the hell did you get yourself into this one, LC?”  
“My cousin died and apparently she designated me as the preferred guardian to her two sons.”

This sobered Havoc. “Oh. I’m sorry, sir.”

Roy scoffed. “I hardly knew her,” Which was almost a lie, but not completely. At the very least, they hadn’t heard from each other in over a decade other than a handful of letters here or there. To be fair, she was one of the only blood relatives of Roy’s that he’d ever known at all.

“Then why did she pick you?” Breda interjected. 

This wasn’t supposed to be an office-wide discussion. But still, if Roy could get some backup on this, then he couldn’t really complain. “I’m not sure. Their father is presumed dead. I suppose they didn’t really have any other family.”

“Well that’s strange,” Hawkeye said.

Roy shrugged. “They’re from the countryside,” he said as if by way of explanation.

“With all due respect, sir,” Fuery said. “Can’t you just refuse?”

Of course, Roy decided, he and his lieutenant should have had this conversation outside. “I could,” he said carefully. “They would go to the foster system.”

Or not. The look that Hawkeye fixed him with was unnerving. “Lieutenant Colonel, could I speak with you privately?”

She wasted no time as soon as they were alone. “A lot of children end up in foster care, sir.”

“I’m aware of that, Lieutenant.”

They both rode out the pause until Hawkeye gave in. “It isn’t like you to make this so personal. Have you ever even met them before?”

“There are two of them,” Roy said, avoiding the question because it was so far from the point and they both knew it. “Brothers. The state could separate them if I turn them away.”

Maybe he was convincing her, but it was difficult to tell. “Did you think this was about my own childhood?” he persisted. “I thought you knew me better than that. I’ve never been very sentimental, you know.”

Her response took some time, which was promising. “How can you possibly raise two kids at this point in your career?”

“I have no intention of ‘raising’ anybody”, Roy corrected. “I think their father is alive. He’s a powerful alchemist, and the military was keeping tabs on him for some time before he dropped off the map. I may have better luck finding him than the child welfare offices did.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Then I’ll make other arrangements. Regardless, it will only be temporary.”

Given that this was perhaps the most ridiculous thing Roy had ever done, it was only natural that Hawkeye would try to dissuade him. And yet the conversation was a moot point.

  
“You know that this is a terrible idea,” she said.

“Of course.”

This could have been one of those rare things that they were both uncertain of. She might have had a window to talk him out of it, but she hesitated. Her head took on the most marginal tilt while she watched him. If she was waiting for permission to strike, he wasn't going to give it to her. Finally, she nodded. 

"Right then."

And of course, as soon as his subordinates were back in the room, they swarmed again like vultures. Roy's task grew more daunting with each new question they posed. Caring for children felt so much more real when the details were laid out in a string of problems Roy had no solution for. So fascinating, evidently, was Roy's personal business that the inquiry dragged on for the next half hour.

“Are they old enough to take care of themselves while you’re at work?”

“You have to transfer them into the school system, right?”

“Do you even have space in your apartment?”

“What if you don’t get along?” 

* * *

 

At home that evening, there was no need to rifle through his office for the envelope he was looking for. Roy had already done so the night before, and it sat waiting at the top of his desk drawer exactly where he’d left it. It wasn’t the most recent of Trisha’s letters by any means, but it was significant in other ways.

_Dearest Cousin,_

_How have you been? It’s been so long since I’ve written! My boys keep me very busy, but that’s no reason to forget about the rest of my family._

_Alphonse just turned three. Everyone keeps congratulating me on making it through the terrible twos, but there’s something so melancholy about seeing them age. The picture I’ve included is from the birthday party we had last week. You should come out to Resembool for the next one. I really would love for you to meet them._

_I worry now that you’ve joined the military. This fire alchemy business sounds truly awful, even if it is very impressive. I can boast to my children that we have more than one powerful alchemist in the family, even if I wish you would put your abilities toward something more peaceful. But I know that your heart will always be in the right place, Roy. Please, just write to me more often so I can know that you’re okay._

_Love, Trisha._

He skimmed the letter again, but only skimmed it. He’d read this one along with the rest already, and reread them and put them all at the bottom of his file cabinet where they belonged. Roy was done reading. What he really wanted was another glance at the photograph.

It had been about six years since it was taken, but he didn’t have anything newer. There were only three in his collection: one of baby Edward, one of baby Alphonse, and this.

  
The kids sat in the unkempt grass of the countryside, so small that it rose above their hips and hid their tiny legs from view. Alphonse stared off to the side, curiosity written in the width of his eyes. He was seemingly unaware that his picture was being taken. Edward, on the other hand, clutched his little brother around the middle and beamed at the camera so widely that his cheeks flushed pink with the strain. It was a cute picture, but no indication of what was to be expected. Six years was a long time at that age, and there would be no smiling children on Roy’s doorstep in the morning. Looking after happy children who hadn’t just been orphaned wouldn’t have been as impossible, but then again he supposed that was the point.

They had spoken often of his good intentions to meet Trisha’s kids, but they were mainly just empty well-wishes. Actually visiting them was never a priority, and truth be told, neither was Roy’s near listless correspondence with his cousin over the years. The odd letter was the very least he could do, and so this is what their relationship had amounted to: a modest stack of letters tied together with twine and kept as a matter of principle. To be fair, he couldn’t imagine that he had meant much more to Trisha than she had to him. But now, finally, he wished he had actually gone through with it and made time to see the boys. Maybe it would have made things easier on everyone involved if they weren’t going into this as total strangers.

It was foolish, Roy knew, to keep looking at this moment in time as though it would spit answers in his face. On some level, he assumed, all kids their age were more or less the same. He would know for sure in the morning. With a defeated sigh, he discarded the photo and began the uncertain task of preparing his apartment for extended company. Before he left the study, Roy stuffed the envelope’s contents back together and put them back at the bottom of the filing cabinet with the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purpose of this fic, I suppose the Rockbells don't exist, or at least not in the way that they do in the series. If I end up getting lazy, I may switch this to a modern AU. Regardless, I know that this isn't the most original of FMA fic concepts, but it's just fun to write, honestly. So here it is! The title is also subject to change.


	2. New Circumstances

The night his mother died, Alphonse cried himself into exhaustion. A lot of it was messy and loud, harsh sobs that burned through his lungs until he couldn’t bear it and then kept going. Some of it was quiet, simple weeping and sniffing, or just the passive, silent act of letting the tears fall. There were lulls, but his eyes were never dry long enough for their swollen red frames to fade away. There were plenty of people there to watch; the doctor who could do little more than nothing and a handful of family friends from the village whose consciences demanded that they assist with the tragedy at hand. Alphonse cried while they took her away, he cried while they discussed What to Do with the Children, he cried while they urged him to drink water and replenish the fluids that all of his crying laid to waste, and he cried when someone finally worked up the audacity to tell him that crying wouldn’t change anything. He cried while he considered the irony of that; if he really thought that anything could change anything about that worst day of his life, he would have been too overjoyed to conjure any tears in the first place. He cried until his the pads of his fingers were pruned from scrubbing at the mess he had made. He started crying the moment he realized she was gone and he didn’t stop until he was falling asleep that night and couldn’t cry any longer even if he had wanted to.

Edward didn’t cry at all. He stayed by Al’s side, handed him whatever was available to blow his nose with and squeezed his hand whenever it was free. He handled all of the talking, but only when he needed to. He transmuted the corsage their mother asked for. He did all of these things, but he didn’t cry.

It was the same at her funeral. It was the same after her funeral, too, when Al sat in front of the grave and cried still more while Ed contemplated it with an expression that was solemn, but somehow not distraught. He was beginning to wonder wildly if Ed even cared that she was gone.

Not until a man from the government came to take them away did Alphonse find out why his brother wouldn’t cry.

They were being taken to a live with a relative in East City. Neither of them even recognized his name. Ed was livid, and Al couldn’t say he was pleased. Being just the two of them in Resembool was decidedly less terrifying than being just the two of them and a stranger in a city Al hadn’t ever even been to before.

He sat by the window. On a train with just a suitcase between them, a social worker by their side, and home shrinking away on the other side of the glass, Ed leaned over to whisper in his brother’s ear.

“It won’t be forever, Al. I have a plan.”

* * *

 

A social worker was supposed to bring the Elric Brothers to Roy’s apartment at ten o’clock that Friday morning, so he took the day off.  By the time noon rolled around, it became probable that he’d made a mistake.

He called the welfare office to demand an explanation, but it wasn’t much use. They told him that there was an incident (an unspecified one, at that) and the children would be brought to his residence as soon as it was resolved. Missing a day at work was no small thing, and Roy hung up on the secretary in frustration. 

Rapidly, infuriatingly, his Friday was turning into hours on end of sitting in his apartment doing absolutely nothing.  Attempts to get some work done from home were mostly in vain. At three, Hughes called to ask about the kids.

“I don’t have a damn clue how the kids are doing, Maes, since they haven’t showed up yet.”

“What?”  Maes ignored the bite in his tone. “Why? Did you call the-“

“ _Yes_ I called the office, and they told me there had been an incident. Whatever the hell that means.”

“Do you think they’re okay?”

It hadn’t even occurred to Roy.  “I don’t know,” he tried to snap, but it came out sounding weak. “I assumed it was some kind of administrative thing.”

Maes’ disappointment was tangible through the phone. “The cardinal rule of parenthood is that you always worry excessively for the safety of your children, Roy.”

Roy bristled. “Legal guardian.”

“Same thing.”

It absolutely was not at all the same thing, not on Roy’s watch, but he decided to let it go. “Then call this my first mistake. Expect many more in the future.”

His friend’s laughter was grating. “Talk about a jump start. You haven’t even _met_ them yet.”

And damn him, Roy thought hours later, when he was still waiting for a knock on the door and had been worrying ever since. It certainly wasn’t helping matters in the slightest, but there was no stopping now. Another call to the welfare office was just as fruitless as the first.

Maybe the worst thing was how much time he was provided against his will to really think about what he had allowed himself to be dragged into. Not parenthood; parenthood implied permanence, emotional investment. This wasn’t even _personal_. So no, not parenthood. Not even close. But something. There would be children living in his home.

Unable to do much other than aimlessly ponder the meaning of the term “incident”, he settled for lying on the couch and tossing a rubber ball up in the air until the motion became mindless.

It was eight o’clock at night when the social worker finally showed up, apologizing profusely before Roy even finished opening the door.

“I’m so sorry!” The man seemed somewhat disheveled, and perhaps too young for his profession. It was difficult to imagine that he could have any authority over even a child. “I’m Nate Cormish. We spoke over the-“

“Yes, I know.” Ignoring Nate Cormish seemed appropriate after the day’s events. Instead, Roy directed his attention to the Elric brothers standing by Nate Cormish’s side.

At first glance he wasn’t entirely sure which was which, though there was certainly a marked difference between the two. Their features were different, but most notably, one looked sullen while the other glared with frightening intensity at nothing in particular.

“I know you haven’t met before,” the social worker began hesitantly. “This is Edward and Alphonse.”

He put a hand on each of their shoulders to indicate who was who. Edward, the furious one, flinched and shrugged it off. Alphonse gave a quiet “Hello, sir,” and a nervous glance at his brother.

“Uh… Hello.” Somehow, Roy didn’t feel entirely comfortable either.  

Nate Cormish cut in. “Again, I am so sorry for the delay. It’s just that they, um, ran off this morning. It took some time to find them, but they were perfectly safe the whole time, I assure you.”

“So you decided to keep me in the dark the whole time they were missing?”

The poor man was sweating. “Our department decided it was best to wait until the situation was resolved. There was really no need to worry you.”

Roy pressed two fingers to his temple and focused on taking a deep breath. “I’m sure these kids are exhausted. If there’s anything else to discuss, call later.”

Nate Cormish looked grateful for the out more than anything. “Right. Of course.”  He addressed the kids. “Goodbye, boys. I’ll be back to check on you soon. If you need anything at all, just call my office.” He produced a card, considered Edward, thought better of it, and handed it to Alphonse. It wasn’t difficult to assume which brother had orchestrated their escape.

The boy pocketed the card dutifully. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Cormish. Ed is, too.”

To the man’s credit, he met the apology with a warm smile. “It’s okay, Al.”

The social worker fled down the hall, leaving Roy Mustang, the Elric brothers, and two suitcases sitting on the ground between them. For a time, they simply stood there, Alphonse looking just as miserable and Edward’s glare beginning to weaken.

“Well,” Roy said, “Come inside, then.”

They shuffled in and appraised the apartment with thoughtful eyes.

A state alchemist’s salary was impressive by many accounts, but Roy had chosen a place that was modest in size. The living room and the kitchen were largely the same entity, forming a simple square of living space. Other than that, there was a bedroom, a bathroom, and a study. Nothing else had ever been necessary. Undoubtedly, the boys were also considering the prospect of the place housing all three of them.

When Edward finally spoke, it wasn’t with any of the apology his brother exhumed.

“So who even _are_ you?”

That was somewhat surprising. “You don’t know? Did your mother ever mention me?”

“I’m sure she did,” Alphonse said quickly. “But it was probably a long time ago.”

There was some small comfort in knowing that he wasn’t the only one to feign interest in their letters. So much for Trisha’s bragging about her cousin the alchemist. “The agency didn’t tell you anything?”

“Your name is Roy Mustang”, Edward said. “You’re in the military. You’re related to us somehow.” He scanned Roy’s face with a raised eyebrow. “Sure doesn’t look that way though.”

Fair enough. “I’m mostly Xingese, but I am your mother’s cousin. Our mothers were half-siblings,” he explained. “We didn’t know each other too well, though.”

“Did she ever tell you about us?” Alphonse asked.

Roy smirked. “Yes. In every letter she’s sent me since you were born.”

Watching for signs that their mother was a sensitive topic, Roy found none. Alphonse grew visibly less anxious by the minute even as the discussion continued. It was odd, but if anything, Edward seemed bored when he decided to change the subject. “What do you do for the military, anyway?”

“I’m a state alchemist.”

Never having spent too much time around children, Roy couldn’t be too sure of how, exactly, one could normally cheer up a weary one. Apparently he’d just figured it out. Both of their gazes snapped to him, magnetized and eager.

“Really?” Alphonse practically shouted. “What’s your specialty? Can we see some of your research?”

“What? Why?”

“We’re alchemists too” Edward announced with pride. “Anything you can show us would be fantastic.”

Trisha had definitely mentioned this a few times, but he had assumed she was exaggerating. Maybe they all were.

“It’s far too advanced for someone your age, I assure you.”

Edward’s scowl came back home. “Really? Let us show you if you don’t believe us.”

“I’d rather not,” Roy said. “Not in my apartment, at least.”

“Then let’s go outside. I don’t care. We’ll transmute anything.”

His persistence was aggravating. It could have just been the harsh gold of his irises, but Edward’s eyes screamed that he was going to win this argument. Roy decided resolutely that they were wrong.

“No. Maybe tomorrow. “

Edward huffed. “I’m glad you think this is a joke.”

Affirming that would have been satisfying, but Roy didn’t want to test the kid’s temper. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, even if you could understand my research, I still wouldn’t show you. I specialize in combustion alchemy. It’s too dangerous.”

He didn’t look pleased, but Edward’s tantrum was over, at least. He crossed his arms and fell back onto the couch.

“Combustion means fire. Burning,” Roy clarified.

“We _know_ what combustion means,” Edward snapped. “Useless. Actually, worse than useless. If you weren’t a state alchemist, they wouldn’t have even gone looking for us. We would be halfway back to Resembool by now.”

Alphonse’s smile had disappeared as soon as it came. He sat down next to his brother, clearly disappointed.

“Right,” Roy said, lifting an amused eyebrow, “and by all means, tell me what you would have done when you got there Who would have taken care of you?”

“We can take care of ourselves.” Most likely, Edward actually believed it.

“You’re only ten years old yet.”

“Mr. Mustang?” Alphonse asked, “Could I please have some water?”

The poor kid didn’t look miserable, Roy realized. Just utterly exhausted. More than likely, they both were.

“Yes, of course. You too, Edward?”

He nodded and Roy moved to get some glasses from the kitchen. “Are you guys hungry?”

“Nah,” Edward said, “They fed us at Kid Prison.”

Alphonse sighed. “It’s a state home, Brother. You don’t have to be so dramatic.”

They both drank gratefully, and it was beginning to look like the pair of them were about to pass out right there.

“Maybe we can continue this conversation in the morning. It seems like you’ve had a long day.” Roy tried, and took Edward’s subtly closing eyelids to mean just as much of a yes as Alphonse’s bleary nod.

There was only one bed in the apartment, but the brothers made no complaint about sharing. Roy listened outside the bedroom only two minutes after they disappeared inside and heard soft snoring through the door. Given the utterly lifeless day he’d had, it was hours before Roy finally followed suit. He took the couch. Given his ability to sleep on anything short of a bed of nails and _through_ anything short of hellfire, it was a tolerable arrangement.

There had been no disasters as of yet. Everything else could wait until morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the end of this one is kind of weak! A good portion of these first two chapters felt like something I had to trudge through to get to the stuff I'm actually excited to write. I have nearly 8,000 words written so far, and now a lot of it is just a matter of connecting all of the pieces. Thanks to anyone who decides to give this a chance and support the fic. Feedback would be much appreciated!


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